The next fortnight passed fairly fast, classes going from easy to extremely complicated due to the O.W.L exams that would take place instead of the normal exams and he could not find anything harder than this. Four weeks in! It should have waited until Winter break was over in the very least but no, the professors had to dump it on them like that.

"I don't even want to see a real owl," he complained to Macnair in a growl tone but Macnair did not care because he was snogging a girl. A really rare event as Scabior recently took to pointing out when they were "sucking face" as he so charmingly put it.

It did grow to be obnoxious. What was in the female species that made blokes act like complete nitwits? Why were they so obsessed with how many girls they could snog or shag in a single month? Scabior rolled his eyes. Of course he was interested in women but they should not be the everything of a person's life, right?

"Hey!" and of course, there was a girl.

"What Wilson?" he snarled, writing in his small, scraggly writing on a piece of parchment, the ink red for reasons he could not explain to himself ever since Macnair accused him of using a "very Gryffindor color" of ink, but ink was ink.

"Aren't you going to ask me to the dance?" she asked, smiling.

"What bloody dance?" he asked, not wanting to know. "No I'm not takin ye...'m not takin any witch."

She looked hurt. "I forgot you were not that type, I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Stand up to you. He's being a tosser," Adarte's voice came as she approached them in the library.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Johanna coldly said, hand going to her pocket where here wand was kept.

"Don't even try to curse me Wilson, I'm unarmed and I'm trying to do you a favor. Not the point, I was going to ask you Scabior...where did you put my notes?" Adarte calmly answered and in doing so, disappointing Scabior slightly.

"In one o' my books I think," he told her, looking for said book it may be in.

"You're trading notes with a mudblood?" Johanna asked in high-pitched disbelief.

"You don' get ta call 'er that Wilson," Scabior said, his eyes flashing.

"Well why are you doing it anyways?" she demanded.

"We 'appen to 'ave O. Wilson, when ye get there, maybe I'll 'elp you," he said, clearly agitated enough it was not a likely scenario.

"Oh! I see," she said brightly, "I'll see you later then."

"How thick do you get?" Adarte and Scabior said at the same time and they smirked as Adarte sat next to him.

"I can't be seen with a mudblood," he reproachfully told her.

"I think ye can," she mockingly replied. "I am simply the enemy mudblood demanding her notes back and you are the enemy pure arse wanker who is holding them. We can do that in public, can't we?"

"Don't call yerself a mudblood," he snarled, glaring into her innocent wide eyes full of life and cheer. He caught himself staring again and realized he was getting too comfortable with her around; he needed to get rid of her.

"Or what?" she challenged.

"Jus' don't," he said, "Tha's my nickname for ye."

"So original," she sarcastically said with a smile, rubbing his back casually. He tensed up and told her not to touch him so she took her hand off him.

"'ere are yer notes now go on," he said, handing them to her.

"Nope. That would be too easy," she insisted, crossing her legs and leaning back comfortably and relaxed.

"Yer being easy," he growled.

"You hurt me so," she dramatically said but she grinned.

"Adarte!" he snapped then he froze; he had absolutely never called her by her first name before, not in general context.

"Wow, fine then," Adarte said, a bit agitated, "I'll see you, yeah?" She waited for a response but left when she got none.

"That girl..." he did not finish his sentence but put himself back to work before he could lose his concentration and he thanked the sun and moon that he had enough focus to keep his thoughts away until he was done.